The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1887-08-24

Davis cottage. Arrived there, it was
the work of few minutes to improvise |
saw-horses for the occasion, and then
six pairs of strong young hands fell
vigorously to work upon the widows
wood-pile.
4" Many hands make short work."
says the old adage; and the sun was
scarcely past the meridian when the
last stick was split and the whole was
ready to be piled into little shed, which
seemed hardly large enough to hold it.
"Now," said Tom, as they sat on
the ground, enjoying the contents of
their lunch baskets, " four of us can
put that wood into the shed and pro-
pose that the other two go down the
road to wilkins and borrow his horse
and cart, and drive down to the mill
after load of edgings for kindling.
1t is not far. Pete will let us have his
team for quarter-thatll be only a
nickel apiece for us and they are CIV
ing away the waste at the mill to any
one who will take it,"
The motion was carried unanimously,
George Harris and Fred Grant being
" detailed for cart duty" as Will Har-
ris said
The wood was piled into the shed
and the boys were growing impatient,
when their companions returned with
their load.
Now hurry and take the team
home," said Will, " for it is almost
sunset"
The additional fuel filled up nearly
all the spare space in the little shed,
and the boys set out for home in good
spirits, satisfied with their days work.
There's father bringing home Mrs.
Davis; mother never lets her walk"
said Tom, as they heard the rumble of
approaching wheels, and few minutes
later they bowed to the widow as she
passed, for they all respected the lonely
woman, who, having no claim upon any
one, was yet friend and helper to all.
Why" she exclaimed, as Mr..
Stinson set her down at her door,
4" where is my wood? Some one has
been herel' and, Fastening to the
wood-shed, she threw open the door
and stood for moment as though
paralyzed. Then, " 1t is all here" she
cried. " Look, Mr.. Stinson-sawed and
split, and kindling from the mill, too.
Who could have done it?''
Then she added, 81 know-it was
the boys. That is what they had been
doing with the saws and axes. How
good they are! Bless their dear, kind
hearts," and, sitting down on the low
doorstep, she bowed her face in her
hands, while her frame shook with sobs
of grateful emotion.
Humph, crying!" said Tom Stin-
son, when his father, overtaking them,
told them what had passed at the
cottage.
CHOW, boys, we have made the
widow cry; let's see if we can't make
her laugh. Let's get our mothers to
pack a basket for us to take to her the
night before Thanksgiving"
The suggestion met with general
favor among the boys, and the mothers
basket, for to all of them Mrs. Davis
had been kind and helpful presence
in sickness or sorrow, and in more than
one home were dear ones who owed
life to her tender and patient care,
which had won them back to health
from what had seemed the shadow of
death.
And Tom Stinson remembered-ah
could he ever fOrget?-the long nights
she had watched with him, when two
years before he had been stricken down
with diphtheria; and the low and fer
vent prayer breathed in his room, when
she thought he was sleeping-prayer
that his life might be spared and that
he might become a good and useful
man. How surely the influence of that
petition was leading him up to such a
life was known only to him who hears
and answers prayer.
Two days later, just as the twilight
was deepening into shadow, the boys
again made their way to the widow S
cottage, this time bearing by turns a
large and well-flled basket.
"Good evening, Mrs. Davis" said
Tom, removing his hat, as he opened
the door. /" We have called to apollo.
gize for the liberty we took with your
wood last Monday and to ask you tc
accept the contents of this basket which
our mothers have sent"
"Apologize.' exclaimed the sur.
prised woman. "Liberty, indeed
Why, you dear, good boys, how can
thank you for your kindness? And now
for this basket" Tears choked her ut
terance, and the boys turned away.
It's no use," said Tom, in shaky
voice, as she shut the door. "We cam
make her laugh. She ,cill cry, do what
we may. Come, let us go round by the
cove and see what the skating is going
to be for tomorrow" -Fdith Hayne.